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ATWT is a soap currently propelled not on the power of its solid storytelling, but on the power of its solid, talented cast. It is the intensity of Larry Bryggman's John, the righteous anger and newfound enthusiasm of Kelley Menighan-Hensley's Emily, and the quiet pride and wholesomeness of Jon Hensley's Holden that is moving us, making us connect to the show. It's not the word. It's the passion and commitment of those who have to breathe life into those words, sometimes those horrible cliches, and often the very simplest of conversations. That is what keeps ATWT from stalling and sinking under the weight of its poorly written and constructed story anvils. The best story – Hope's paternity – was the brainchild of former head writer Lorraine Broderick. I applauded the current writing team early this week in a response to another post on Media Domain for expertly drawing the figurative lines in the sand between Ben and Denise and the Hughes and Dixons. However, Broderick had already drawn that line deeply months ago. In retrospect, current head writers Leah Laiman and Carolyn Culliton and Executive Producer Christopher Goutman simply retraced that line, reawakening our interest in the story while reaping the riches of Broderick's work. Laiman and Culliton also opened the story umbrella Broderick had planted, and look what fell out: Ben, Denise, Bob, Kim, Andy, John, Holden, and a slew of other characters all connected via one story! This story brought some good scenes and some good dialogue. (Example: John's reaction to Denise on Friday when she told him she sold Hope during a depressing and troubled time in her life: "Does this mean the next time you're blue, this little baby goes on the market?") It brought people together we haven't seen interact for a while (Holden/Denise and Molly/Andy on Friday). So if you enjoyed the unfolding story revolving around Hope this week, you were perhaps unconsciously expressing a desire to return to the two major tentpoles of Lorraine Broderick's tenure as a head writer: Umbrella storylines and long arc storylines. Storylines woven in and around various characters, lives intersecting and colliding in a dizzying display of story and purpose – This is the definition of soap opera and what keeps us tuning in for more. In Broderick's World, there was Camille/Brad, Camille/Ben, Camille/Julia, Jack/Julia, Julia/Emma, Jack/Carly, Julia/Carly, Carly/Molly, Andy/Molly, Andy/Denise, Lisa/John, John/Carly, Carly/Hal, Emily/Tom, Tom/Margo, etc. In other words, the possibilities were endless. Broderick tossed our characters around in a big salad bowl, coating them in a dressing of storylines and emotional richness, not content to confine people just to romance, but exploring friendship, family, and even occasionally, the unpredictable (Eddie/Margo, Emily/Tom). In Laiman and Culliton's World, the character lines are more narrowly drawn, though some of their pairings have been anything but predictable! It's Jake/Lucinda and Jake/Julia. But Julia. . .and who else? Molly/Carly. Molly. . .and who else? Carly/Jack. Carly. . .and who else? Jack. . .and who else? Holden/Lily. Holden/Katie (Gag!). But Lily. . .and who else? I can't even put Lily/Lucinda here, because the two have so little interaction anymore. Story should flow. Story should evolve. Stories should collide and mix and blend, entangling the participants and forming in the process romance, drama, conflict, and intrigue. Broderick gave Hope's paternity all that and more, and Laiman and Culliton are riding that wave like Frankie Avalon in one of those beach movies from the 60s. What will be interesting to see is if (a great mental image here!) Laiman and Culliton can ride that surf all the way to shore, or will they -- as what occurred with the resolution of the Reid/David and Alec storylines -- wipe out. If you think I'm giving Lorraine Broderick too much credit for setting the foundation of the Baby Hope storyline, compare it to the original work of Laiman and Culliton concurrently unfolding on ATWT. And remember: They've had six months to write this new material. There's Isaac stealing Camille's diary – and putting it back in the same episode. (Calling this latest plot development childish is an understatement.) There's John popping up and around Camille like a nagging John-in-the Box. While I love that the very talented Lauren B. Martin is being brought to the frontburner, she's been placed there without a real story, just a set of circumstances and events. There's Emily, played to the hilt by the amazing Kelley Menighan-Hensley, walking around Oakdale, staking her claim at independence and shoveling out some reality checks to whoever gets in her way. "Hell hath no fury like a teenage boy scorned," Emily said to Tom and Lisa on Tuesday, and while that line could easily pass for cliche, Menighan-Hensley's hard-as-ice delivery stabbed right to the heart. But you don't get the feeling Emily is moving anywhere, much less into a real storyline. Like Lucinda, reduced to playing Gin to illustrate and reinforce to the audience her claims of strength and success ("I always win," Lucinda told Jake, a line which couldn't have been farther from the truth), Emily is a lot of talk, but no action. The difference is that these days Menighan-Hensley's Emily conveys more the threat of possibility and a position to reclaim her power than Elizabeth Hubbard's recent broad, theatrical performances and the weak, passive way Lucinda is being written. Nonetheless, with James divorcing Lucinda, the writers have the perfect opportunity to explore this character's apparent aching loneliness, a need that could be reworked successfully to rationalize why Lucinda became involved with James in the first place. It could simultaneously propel Lucinda into a story of her own. (And wouldn't that be original in its own right?) Was Lucinda really brought back to fuss over Jake and fuss over Georgia and just fuss in general? From one Gin to another Jen we go: Jennifer Munson longs for true love. Wham, bam, instant story! The longing emerged on Monday during a typical Laiman and Culliton "crisis du jour". This time it was a malfunctioning heating system at Barbara's. Not to worry, though. All was well by episode's end, except for Jennifer's lack of love life. But wait! There was even more Laiman and Culliton brilliance on display this week. Carly, who is becoming Pollyanna right before our eyes, waxed rapturously about having the simple life, plucking chickens, making apple cider, and marrying Jack. But alas, all is not perfection at Snyder Pond. The ghosts of Hong Kong keep reappearing. A mysterious man keeps lurking around, at the farm one day, then glimpsed at Carly's bridal shower the next. He lurks and lurks, but nothing is revealed, which leads me to wonder if the writers have plotted much beyond Maura West's departure on maternity leave. Jack, meanwhile, has now been reduced to "the boyfriend", totally one-dimensional and, without Carly, practically unseen. In a dramatic turnaround marked by, I can only guess, Carly's skills with a calculator and her ability to shovel manure, Emma has embraced Carly right to the bosom of the Synder family. This story is as empty and lightweight as the little box Camille gave Carly at her shower. And like that gift, this story is already full of bad memories that I wish the writers would release and replace with something of more power and substance. I understand the writing team was forced to create something that would account for Maura West's upcoming prolonged absence. Hey, if it takes maternity leave to make this writing team actually create a storyline, then I'm all for it. (And if that's the case, I sure do wish some of our backburner male characters would get pregnant!) But couldn't they have invested the story with a little more depth? Broderick used Kelley Menighan-Hensley's pregnancy as a springboard to Emily's downfall, the beginning for Emily to reap what she had sewn. In other words, Broderick took the lemons and made lemonade. And Laiman and Culliton? Well, let's just say that homemade cider Laiman and Culliton figuratively have Carly stirring at the farm tastes mighty sour. The biggest story now and, by far, the worst storyline unraveling before our eyes, is the starcrossed love story of Abigail and Chris. Mired in this horrible and unsettling love mess, these two alternatively make goo-goo eyes at each other and then tell everyone else who gives a darn (and one wonders why anyone would!) that they're not involved. Very infuriating is how Laiman and Culliton and Goutman are trying to have it both ways. Chris and Abigail both claim their love is innocent and pure. Yet weeks before the character of Abigail was introduced, Chris had dreams or visions or something of the perfect woman. One of those "whatevers" involved a naked woman swimming and emerging from Lucinda's pool while Chris swam after her with a dazed look on his face. That's lust and sexuality, folks, and nothing else. True, it could be that Abigail was merely the embodiment of the perfect woman in Chris' mind. But in that little fantasy, I don't think Chris was getting off on that woman's incredible mind and personality. It was physical all the way. So I challenge Laiman and Culliton and Goutman: If you're going to take the risk and tell this story, then have the guts to go all the way. Either commit to the story as the misguided and insipid Romeo and Juliet rip-off it appears to be, or push the envelope and tell the watered down, slightly altered version of "Lolita" this story originally hinted at. But you can't have it both ways. And changing course mid-stream indicates -- you guessed it -- bad plotting and bad writing. In the meantime, while TPTB are sorting all this out, Molly has been turned into a nagging shrew and Holden into a "Doting Dad" who just happens to tote around $10,000 in loose change which comes in handy for buying his daughter a horse. You want more? This story has already featured two horribly appalling and character-destroying scenes that mirrored each other and basically served the same purpose: Bob and Nancy apparently approving of the Chris and Abigail pairing and, if not totally blessing the union, certainly not vocalizing any concern over the fact that Abigail is a sophomore in high school. Even Kim didn't seem to have a problem with it. This insinuates that the writers believe the audience can be manipulated into accepting a pairing (or a storyline). Equally disturbing has been having to watch Laiman and Culliton totally emasculate the character of Chris, having him hiding at Java Underground, mooning around like a love-struck teenager, hanging out with high schoolers Jennifer, Abigail, and Adam, and cowering under Molly's latest tirade. And how many times to we have to see Molly stampede over to Chris and tear into him while he stands there and takes it like an abused puppy? If Chris is to be our primary young stud on ATWT (and Paul Korver certainly fits the profile), then this character's blood needs to be pulsing with the fire of young manhood. A man can be romantic, tender and sensitive. (Holden is an excellent example, and Jon Hensley plays him with a comforting sensitivity and gentleness. Friday's show perfectly illustrates this. During Denise and Holden's initial scene, the yearning in Hensley's eyes practically pulled Hope from Denise's arms into his.) But a romantic, tender, and sensitive man still needs to have the essense of masculinity and manhood present. Holden still had it even during the times when Lily made some major decisions regarding Hope. Ben has it, sometimes to the point of arrogance and pushiness. And Nick Kokotakis' Brad embodied tenderness and power, literally melting in front of Camille while still enveloping her in his arms. However, the character of Chris does not. Look at it this way: What would you rather see? The romantic Jack who built Julia a swing at the Synder Farm, or presented Carly with a pair of hiking boots? Or the cradle-robbing Chris, who gave Abigail a tree-shaped car freshener, who loves in secret and gets his kicks slow dancing and raiding the vending machine while being locked in a library? These are good things:
These are bad things:
Grade for the Week: C- |
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